real anger. The rope plan was therefore given up, and the director of the proceedings, Mr. Bartlett, ordered the keeper to 4 fetch the bag.” He shortly reappeared with a common sack, the open end of which was

mounted on to a strong pole (like an ordinary landings net far fishing) the shut end of the bag being laced up, after the fashion of a Balmoral boot, only that the lace-holes were much further apart. Watching his opportunity, one of the keepers slipped the bag over her head (as a lady catches a butterfly on a hedge), and Puss was fairly in the bag: he then lifted it up, thinking she would stay quietly there. Puss thought otherwise, for the moment the bag was off the ground she twisted herself right round, her head instantly appeared at the mouth of the bag, and out she hopped like a u Jack-in-a-box; ” her wrath in the meantime grew fiercer and fiercer, and she challenged all comers to deadly combat. Stealing up this time behind her, while Mr, Bartlett kept her attention engaged in front (the “ Puss, puss, puss ” days were over long ago), the keeper put the bag once more over her head, and lifting it up a little from the ground, another man tied a rope, round it; it was then lifted up by means of the pole, and a pretty turmoil took place inside. Puss scratched, yelled, and jumped about so, that one would have thought that the keeper had caught a real live demon. This turmoil, however, did not last very long, for the closed end of the sack was placed over the opening in the box, the lacings carefully undone, and Puss fell into the cage by her own weight.

It made me laugh to look at her face when she was a

prisoner. She peered out from the wrong side of the bars with her bright but glaring eyes, which seemed to say, “ Well, you have done me now. If I had known what the lot of you were about with your 1 Puss, puss, puss,* and your fawning civilities a quarter-of-an-hour ago, nothing would have induced me to come out of my den so readily. Confound that sack, that’s hardly fair.” When the conquered Puss was safe in the box, the victorious Cocksedge rubbed his hands and set to work vigorously to screw down the bars which were to keep her in. “ You’re all right now, you tiresome young hussy,” said he, “ and off you’ll go by to-night’s train to Mr. Edmonds’s menagerie, at Manchester; and I only hope they will use you as well there as I have used you here.” And this is the way “ we let the cat out of the bag,” and got her in again.

JAMRACH AND THE RUNAWAY TIGER.

In Mr. Edmonds’s menagerie I saw the tiger that escaped from his cage in Mr. Jamrach’s (the animal dealer’s) yard, and seized a boy in the street in Ratcliff Highway. An authentic account of this tiger adventure in the streets of London has not to my knowledge ever been published. I make it my rule to get my information on such matters, if possible, first hand. I therefore give the story as Mr. Jamrach told it me himself.

It appears that, in October 1857, Mr. Jamrach purchased “ a lot ” of animals from a ship arriving from abroad, and among them a large tiger in a den. During the voyage the weather had been very stormy, the sea nad frequently washed over the decks, the tiger’s den

partaking in the general wetting.

When the ship arrived at the London Docks, the den was put in a van and deposited in Mr. Jamrach’s yard, with the bars towards the wall. The den having been thus placed, Mr. Jamrach walked away, when, on turning round a few minutes afterwards, he saw that the tiger had reared herself up on her hind-legs, and was pressing hard on the boards.

In a few moments these boards, which were rotten from the w’et, “ let go,” and out walked the tiger through the yard gate into the street. A little boy, about nine years old, happened to be playing there. The little fellow, thinking that the tiger was a big dog, walked up to her, and, began patting her; the animal then turned her head, and seized the boy by the shoulder with her tremendous fangs. Jamrach immediately ran up, and grasped the tiger by the loose skin of her neck; but, although a very strong and powerfully-built man, he could not hold the beast, which immediately started off down the street at a gallop, carrying the boy in her mouth as a cat would a mouse. Jamrach held on tight all the time to the tiger’s neck, and kept up with long

strides by her shoulder, like a groom by the side of a runaway horse. Finding that his hold was giving way, he managed to slip the tiger’s hind-leg from under her, and tumble her to the ground. He then instantly threw his whole weight down on her, and letting go the skin of her neck, fastened his two thumbs behind her ears with a firm grip. There tiger, man, and boy lay many minutes all together in a heap, the man gripping the tiger, the tiger (still holding the boy in her fangs) all the while suffering from the pressure of Jamrach’s hands and from impeded respiration. After a time one of Jamrach’s men was actually bold enough to put ms head round the corner to see if he could render his master assistance. Jamrach cried out, “ Bring me a crow-bar!”

The man got a crow-bar, and struck the tiger three severe blows on the nose with it, which made her drop the child from her mouth. Jamrach then sent him for some ropes; these ropes, of course, in the confusion, became entangled, and the tiger, watching her opportunity, sprang up, and getting loose, ran back again up the street, Jamrach after her, crow-bar in hand: she bolted round the corner, through the yard gate, and leaped into the den, from which she had escaped. Once inside, she cowered down and lay quiet, and panted like a hunted fox. The child was, strange to say, not much hurt. He

;

had only a bite on the shoulder, which got well in eight days. The poor little fellow, however, was so terribly frightened that he never spoke a word for four hours.

Mr. Jamrach got the worst of this affair; for, having had to fight the tiger, he then had u to fight the lawyers,” and the whole business cost him, in damages and law expenses, over 300/. He had, in fact, caught a Tartar “ for,” said he, “ there was a lawyer as well as a tiger inside the tiger’s skin; ” he had “ first to tackle the tiger, and then the lawyer afterwards—too much for any man’s nerves.” This story of the child and tiger got into the news-papers, and Mr. Edmonds, seeing the account, came up from Birmingham (where his menagerie was then being exhibited) and bought the tiger for 200Z. He put it in his collection, and advertised it as, “The tiger that swallowed the child in Ratcliff Highway.” Everybody, of course, went to see it, and the purchase turned out a good speculation for about four days, but no longer; for this very tiger, remembering, I suppose, her last expedition, when the men were gone to dinner, put her claw into the partition of her den, pushed it out, and walked into the neighbouring den, in which dwelt a Lion worth a large sum of money. The tiger immediately attacked the Lion, catching him by the throat, and in a few minutes killed him. This same tiger is, I believe, still being exhibited in Edmonds’s menagerie.

250 colonel ramsay’s tiger.

I really think, and doubtless my readers will agree with me, that Mr. Jamracli deserves very great credit for attacking his fierce and runaway tiger single-handed, and rescuing the poor little boy. I record the story as a testimony to his courage and pluck.

COLONEL RAMSAY’S TIGER.

In December 1863, Mr. Ward, taxidermist, of Yere Street, Oxford Street, invited me to examine a magnificent specimen of a tiger, which he had lately set up for Lieut.-Colonel R. A. Ramsay, late Commandant, 3rd Ghoorka Regiment. The gallant Colonel had shot the noble beast when hunting at Huldwane Kumaon Terai, North West India, and wisely determined to have him preserved, that his friends in England might see what a monstrous brute a full-grown tiger really is. Having seen this tiger in Mr. Ward’s shop, I called upon the Colonel, and requested him to be good enough to allow his tiger to be placed in “ The Field ” window, in the Strand, that the public might have an opportunity of seeing and admiring him. The Colonel most kindly

consented to this, and, for a considerable time, there was always an admiring crowd round the window. The following is the account he gave me of this noble

trophy of his sport;

“I can say little regarding the death of this tiger, as he fell dead to my second shot. In January 1861, I left Almorah, a station for a Ghoorka Regiment in the Himalaya, and remained at the foot of the range, at a place called Huldwanee, in order to enjoy a few days’ sport before quitting India. My friend Major B and myself started one morning for a beat through a favourite part of the forest running along the foot of the outer range of hills, where the sambur, spotted deer, and pig abound, also an occasional tiger. We had bagged five or six sambur, four pigs, and some spotted deer, when, on our way home, I asked Major B. to take a turn to the right through a likely piece of covert, and I would move straight on. In about five minutes I heard the grunt of a tiger—a welcome and well-known sound to all sportsmen in India—and looked towards the direction from whence it came, and, to my delight, I saw this fine fellow bounding across the forest about eighty yards in front of my elephant. As quick as thought I took up my rifie, sent two shots at him, and over he rolled—one having taken effect in the stomach, and the second in the head, behind the ear. I have killed tigers before with one shot (through the heart), but I never saw one drop so suddenly as this. From the perfect state of the skin, and fine condition of the animal, I should say he must be about twelve years old, and accustomed to the fat of the land in the way of cattle. Tigers that prey upon the human species are generally mangy and out of condition. A brother of mine out shooting along the same line of country, last March, came upon five tigers, all huddled together like a litter of puppies. It was rather late in the afternoon, and after hard fighting three were bagged, one having bolted at first, and darkness prevented the fifth coming to bag, as he was severely wounded, and an hour more daylight must have insured him. I never heard of more than three tigers being seen together except on this occasion.”

In setting up this tiger, Mr. Ward, as it were, com*, posed a picture, which he called “ The Intrusion.” The

;

position chosen for the beast is that of drinking, or rather, just disturbed from drinking. The water is beautifully represented; it is transparent as crystal; objects'can be seen at the bottom, and there is a slight ripple on the surface, as though a gentle breeze were blowing. The beast is standing on rugged rocks, and the leaves of the jungle plants are tastefully arranged about, so as to give the idea of a desert and waste place. The tiger is looking up from the water, evidently having just heard the approach of his enemies, and is snarling fearfully at his peace being disturbed. However, on this occasion certainly he did not make up his mind quickly enough what to do, for he ran from his fancied security, and was shot dead upon the spot by the gallant Colonel, before (as the Yankees say) “ he knew what had hurt him.” Lucky it was that the Colonel was able to slay this huge brute with so little trouble, for a tiger is nothing more than a big cat and if a cat has nine lives, and a tiger is ninety times bigger than a cat, it follows that a tiger has eight hundred and ten lives, so that it was a lucky shot that destroyed all these lives at but two pulls of the trigger.

Page 32 of 46